Dog's Body
by Archaeologist
Summary: Merlin always thought Arthur would come back to him, one way or another.
1. Chapter 1

**Characters:** Arthur, Merlin, Morgana, Kilgharrah  
 **Rating:** NC-17.  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; It and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

When the scruffy dog came bounding across the field and pushed him down into the grass, Merlin wasn't thinking about magic for once. Only of blue eyes and golden fur and a tongue that kept licking his face.

He tried not to laugh but the animal was so happy to see him, tail wagging hard and fast, and paws scrabbling across his now-muddy shirt that Merlin didn't have the heart to shove him off. So he lay there, brushing at soft fur, whispering doggy endearments.

"Arthur, heel!"

The dog looked up, then tried to dig himself deeper into Merlin's neck. Making soft unhappy noises, it was almost as if the animal were trying to communicate something and didn't know how.

The owner was rushing through the grass, raven hair flying, and for a moment, Merlin thought she looked suspiciously like Morgana. But that couldn't be. After all, she'd been dead for a thousand years or more.

A wet nose shoved at him, trying to get his attention. Then lifting his head, he whined at Merlin even as his paws were shredding Merlin's shirt.

"What is it, fella?"

Another soft woof, and when Merlin stared up, there was a sword-thrust of recognition.

Blue eyes, Arthur's eyes, his king trapped in a dog's body. And Morgana coming up the hill.

Merlin didn't know if it was magic or fate's wheel or the gods laughing at them both, but he'd be damned before he'd let Arthur go again.

"Don't worry, Arthur. I'll take care of this."

Scrambling to his feet, brushing his hand across golden fur, trying to comfort as much as reassure, he stared at the woman coming ever closer.

Even from a distance, Morgana's fury was obvious. Merlin wasn't sure if she recognized him or not. He'd changed his appearance over the years, but if Arthur knew who he was, then Morgana would have a pretty good idea as well. He just hoped that in her new incarnation, she wasn't quite as powerful as Merlin had become in the long centuries since he'd seen Arthur last.

"Arthur, heel! Now!"

Next to him there was a growl, low and dark, and a hard nudge against his thigh as Arthur moved forward.

At first, Merlin thought he might be trying to go to Morgana. After all, Arthur was still a dog with a dog's instincts and a natural tendency to obey his master. But instead, he thrust his body in front of Merlin's, blocking him, all the while making annoyed doggy noises as if to berate him for being an idiot.

Merlin wanted to laugh. It was such an Arthur thing to do. All those times when his king pulled Merlin back, and while using his sword to fight off foes, yelled Merlin to get behind him and then spent the rest of the time trying to keep him safe.

Protection, pure and simple, from Arthur the king and Arthur the dog.

Breathing heavily from walking up the hill, Morgana stopped a few feet away, looking first at Arthur and then at Merlin. Scowling, she said, "What are you doing with my dog?"

"No need to pretend, Morgana." Merlin wasn't about to play around. Arthur was not going to leave with her, not now, not ever. "We both know who he is."

The scowl deepened. "I have no idea who this Morgana person is but Arthur is my dog and I would suggest that you back away before I have you arrested for theft." She turned to Arthur, slapped her thigh with the leash. "Come!"

Arthur wasn't having any of it. He seemed to stand taller, his muzzle straight pointed at her, the long growl rumbling in his chest a warning.

"What have you done to him?" She said, her eyes blazing with fury.

Merlin shrugged. If Arthur's reaction had been any different, he'd almost believe that she, no matter how much she looked like Morgana, was merely an irate dog owner trying to protect their pet from some stranger. But the raised fur, the way Arthur leaned closer to him, the sounds he was making, all seemed to point to something more.

"It would appear that he doesn't want to come with you, Morgana."

"Stop calling me that!" For a moment, she looked almost innocent, then her eyes hardened, her face set in pale stone. "You are clearly have issues with this Morgana person but he is my dog and I'm not leaving without him."

Merlin had had enough of pretence. "What spell did you use on him to make him this way?"

"I didn't… obviously there is no reasoning with you." She glared at him, then shook her head and looked down at Arthur. Her voice seductive, she said, softly, urgently, "Come here, boy. Come on." She lifted her hand toward him, wiggling her fingers in a little come-to-me gesture. "I've got treats for you at home. _Cume on_."

If he hadn't been paying attention, he'd have almost missed the slight flutter of her fingertips, and the way she was weaving her spell, the brief flash of gold in her eyes.

Merlin shoved past Arthur." _Ástynte._ "

As she jerked back, he said, "I will find out, you know, and I will reverse the spell, no matter how long it takes."

"Spell? As in magic? You… you are insane. There is no such thing as magic." With that, she stared at him a moment and then began to back away. "Arthur, please, I can't leave you here with a crazy person. There is no telling what he might do. Come on, boy."

Growling, never taking his eyes of Morgana, Arthur pushed himself into Merlin's leg and stood there, as protective as Merlin had ever seen him.

"I would never hurt him. Never in a thousand years." Letting his hand settle on golden fur, feeling the warmth and softness under his fingertips, he said, "And unlike you, it's his choice whether to go or stay." He smiled down at Arthur. "Although I'd prefer him to stay with me."

Arthur let out a little yip, nosing into Merlin, and then stood there, guarding them both.

Looking absolutely livid, she said, "This isn't over."

"I'm sure it isn't." Merlin would have pushed it, battled her once and for all, but there were too many witnesses in the park, too many innocents that might get hurt. "Be thankful that Arthur is unharmed. I would not be so understanding otherwise."

She scowled down at Arthur, contempt in her gaze, her voice full of disdain. "Such a good dog, so obedient, always so eager for any scrap of attention. Pathetic really how much he begged for it." Giving a sour laugh, her green eyes as remorseless as he had ever seen, she turned back to Merlin. "He'll turn on you in the end, you know. He won't be able to help it."

Arthur's answer was obvious enough. As he started to lunge for her, Merlin grabbed on, catching Arthur's fur and keeping his idiot king from doing something foolish. "Don't even think of hurting him or you will regret it."

Growling, twisting a bit under Merlin's hand, it seemed almost as if Arthur was telling him to let go, that he'd take care of Morgana. But Merlin held on. He wasn't about to allow Arthur anywhere near the witch. "She's baiting you. Once you are yourself again, we'll deal with her. Once I've figured out how to change you back."

"As if you could. Good luck, trying. Time is running out after all." With that, she laughed. "I'll be back. When he's no more use to you, Emrys. When he's not your _beloved_ king but just a dog." Her gaze flicked down to Arthur, and she sent him a smile, twisted, vengeful. "Enjoy what little time you have left, Arthur."

"What do you mean?" Merlin tried to keep the horror out of his voice but the implications of what she was saying sent a chill down his spine.

"As if I'd tell you." She gave a little laugh. "So good-bye for now, Arthur, or rather should I say _woof, woof_. And I'll see you soon."

And with that, she turned around and stalked off.

Merlin wanted to go after her, find out what she meant by her threats but he knew she's only ignore him, or worse, laugh in his face. Right now, his focus had to be Arthur.

Looking down, he brushed his hand over soft fur and said, "Let's go home."

* * *

 _Cume_ = come  
 _Ástynte_ = Stop


	2. Chapter 2

His flat wasn't made for dogs to scramble into. Narrow halls, books piled here and there, a forest of herbs by the window but Arthur didn't seem to care. His paws clicking against the wooden floor, he lunged in, began to sniff around, apparently loving all the smells.

A dog's way of finding out who was friend or foe, but Arthur wasn't a dog, at least not yet.

Morgana's taunts returned to haunt him. If what she'd implied was true, Arthur had little time left before he _was_ a dog and nothing else.

Merlin wasn't going to let that happen, not after waiting so long for Arthur's return.

But for a moment, he just stood there, trying not to think, trying to just revel in the sound of Arthur's enthusiastic explorations. His king was back, his friend was back, the man he loved the most in all the world, for all the ages, was back. It didn't matter that he was a dog. Merlin's long wait was over.

With another woof, Arthur nudged into his hand, bringing him back to worried blue eyes.

He knelt down, ruffled Arthur's fur. "I know you think I am some kind of all-powerful sorcerer." At that, Arthur sent him a look of utter disbelief; somewhere in there was a quick doggy sniff, too, a bit of an insult if memory served correctly, but Merlin ignored it. "I never thought to learn the spell for dog speech. So we will do it the old-fashioned way."

When Arthur tilted his head looking confused or annoyed – Merlin couldn't quite tell, he just sighed. "One nod for yes, two for no."

Merlin didn't realise that dogs could roll their eyes like that. In some ways, the doggie Arthur was far more condescending than he remembered his prat being. But as Merlin stood up, Arthur bit down on Merlin's sleeve and pulled him further into the flat.

Trying not to fall over as he was tugged along, curious to see where Arthur was taking him, he just went with it. "So I guess that's a no on old-fashioned."

As Arthur let go, with a final contemptuous sneeze, he nudged Merlin closer to his computer. Then climbing up on the chair, taking up a pen in his mouth, he started poking at the keyboard.

It took a while but Merlin was willing to wait. They'd be able to communicate, at least until he could find something to change Arthur back.

On the screen, it read _2 dasy_.

Merlin bent down, looking first at the screen and then Arthur. "Two days until it's permanent?"

Arthur nodded.

Two days wasn't nearly enough time. He'd have to find the correct spell, gather whatever supplies he'd need – and that usually meant extremely difficult and rare herbs because when was anything ever easy, make up the potion which sometimes took days to steep properly, and then hope it would work. Damn.

But he didn't say any of that to Arthur. He was probably upset enough. Instead, trying to seem confident and completely in control, Merlin said, "How do you know? Did Morgana say something?"

His eyes narrowing as if he could read Merlin's mind, dropping the now wet pen beside the computer, Arthur gave a little woof. He nudged Merlin forward, using a cold nose to do it, and then patted at the keyboard with one paw.

He wanted to lie to Arthur, reassure him but those blue eyes were boring into his own and he couldn't. He'd lied to Arthur too many times and it only ever made things worse.

Finally, giving a long, drawn-out sigh, trying and failing to postpone the inevitable, he said, "Off the top of my head, I don't know how to fix this, Arthur. I will try as best I can. Transformation spells are ridiculously convoluted and sometimes the wrong cure can only make things worse."

Arthur growled a bit, then picked up the pen again. " _speek_ _yu fx_."

"If I try and find a spell for dog speech…, Arthur, it will take some time." There was a little growl deep in Arthur's throat, annoyance or frustration, and for the thousandth time, Merlin wished Arthur could talk. Much as he could be annoying, Merlin had missed the banter, missed the ridiculous ordering about, missed Arthur's teasing as well as his bravado in all those years of waiting. Missed Arthur so very much.

But there wasn't time for regrets and what-ifs. Arthur was in a terrible position, and had Merlin been transformed like that, he'd be over-the-moon anxious to free himself. Dogs were loyal and great companions but Arthur wasn't meant to be one. And if Merlin didn't get his head on straight, the man he'd waited for all those years would be doomed.

Another cold-nosed nudge and Merlin gave up. "I'll try to find one. I'll give it an hour, no more, then it's transformation spells. I can't risk missing the deadline, not over something so trivial."

A yip, short and pointed, and Arthur was already jumping off the chair, wagging his tail as Merlin sat down and started typing away.

Even though he didn't have the books that Gaius would have had at his disposal, still with the advent of the internet, he could search for anything that had been scanned into the web. It was a thousand times easier than spending days in Geoffrey's cavernous library but still, so much had been lost over the years, especially magical information, that it would be difficult to find just the right spell.

And it proved frustratingly tough.

Merlin would have thought that finding a translation spell would be easy enough. He hadn't needed it before, but the magic should be straightforward, to take Arthur's growls and noises and translate them into coherent speech. Simple.

His concentration was shit, though. His worry that he'd not be able to change Arthur in time was blocking him a bit, setting his mind adrift towards all the ways it could go pear-shaped. It didn't help that Arthur was roaming the flat, poking into everything, sniffing around, pushing books and plants aside, chewing on one of Merlin's shoes, his tail-wagging an ever-present danger.

Finally, concern ratcheting up and up, when Arthur's playful exploration sent a tower of books crashing down and chipping one of his more cherished possessions, a clear stone from the Crystal Cave, he didn't think, just shouted, "Can't you sit still for one moment? I need to…." And then he stopped when he realised that he'd been yelling at the one person who didn't deserve his anger.

There was near silence on the other side of the room. No tail wagging, no growls of annoyance, no howling, nothing but a too-low-pitched whine of apology. When Merlin turned around, he could see Arthur cowering a bit behind the sofa arm.

His heart sticking in his throat when he saw him there, a furry ball of contrition, Merlin wanted to cry. He hadn't done that in centuries but seeing Arthur brought so low was difficult to bear. And worse, it seemed more a dog's response than Arthur's. The human side would have blustered through, would have said that as king, he could crash into things or break things or make as much noise as he wanted. But the dog's reaction was to hide from his master's wrath.

He couldn't take the time to try and make things right, but he did anyway. To see those blue eyes so close to tears just hurt.

Kneeling down next to Arthur, throwing his arms around the dog's neck and murmuring apologies, Merlin said, "I'm sorry. I'm just so… I don't want to fail you, not now. I'm sorry I yelled."

Merlin stayed there a moment, trying to calm down enough to think, when he felt a warm wet tongue licking at his ear.

Not exactly how he planned on Arthur kissing him, those dreams were long gone, but Merlin really didn't want a dog's long tongue licking him like that. It was unsanitary, and in some ways, kind of sick. He'd wanted so much more from the human Arthur and this almost felt a betrayal. Or not. Did a doggy lick count as a kiss or was it just excitement or apology?

Merlin was very confused.

Letting go, catching Arthur's fur in his hands, he pushed back a little. Arthur gave him another lick right across his cheek. He couldn't help it. Confused or not, it tickled and Merlin gave a startled giggle instead, and then felt ashamed for laughing.

He sat back, keeping the dog at bay. "Arthur, I know you are bored. I know you want to run and go hunting and chase rabbits and maybe yell at me for taking too long, but I need to concentrate. So how about I get you something to eat and when you are done, we'll go for a walk so… you know." He pointed down to Arthur's nether regions. After all, it had been a while and dogs do have to pee from time to time.

His tail wagging again, Arthur gave a little yip.

That was good enough for Merlin. Getting up, he went over to the fridge and looked in. There wasn't much there and certainly no dog food. He'd have to think about that later. But there was some leftover chicken, pizza that was only a day or so old, and a bunch of vegetables.

Pulling out the chicken and the carrots, he chopped them up a bit, making sure there were no bones in the mix, then put it in a bowl and placed it on the floor so that Arthur could get to it easily.

Arthur sniffed at it a moment, then looked up and scowled at Merlin as if waiting for him to fix it.

"Sorry it isn't up to your exalted standards, sire, but we peasants have to live a bit more simply these days."

But Arthur shook his head, then used his nose to point to the table. When Merlin just stood there, Arthur closed his eyes a moment, then stared at Merlin, giving him one of those I-have-to-put-up-with-your-idiocy looks, pushed the bowl a little toward the table, and hopped up onto the larger of the two chairs.

Apparently, Arthur wasn't dog enough to eat on the floor, not yet.

Merlin had to admit he was rather relieved.

Once the bowl was empty – Arthur had quite an appetite and Merlin knew he'd need to buy more supplies soon, he poured out some water into a second bowl, then gave him a head pat as Arthur eagerly lapped it up.

Giving a computer one last longing look, sure that the answers were in there somewhere, still he couldn't let Arthur pee all over his floor. It wouldn't be good for the wood, and more importantly, he didn't want to embarrass him. So, giving a little sigh, he said, "Time for walkies, sire."

If looks could kill, Merlin would have been bones already. Apparently, doggie talk was not acceptable. And frankly, Merlin agreed. It had come out all on its own. He hadn't even thought about it, just went with what he'd heard on the telly. All he could do was apologize and nod toward the door.

"Sorry, Arthur. It… okay, you need to pee and I need a walk so if you are ready?"

Giving him another glare, Arthur looked pointedly at the loo. But him scrambling up onto the toilet could be a problem, and Merlin wasn't sure it wouldn't be more embarrassing for Arthur, never mind the potential mess.

Arthur had other ideas. With a sharp bark, he pulled away and walked, tail high, nose in the air as if offended by any suggestion that he was less than capable, into the loo.

Nosing the seat up, he stood on his hind legs, his front paws onto the top of the toilet, and started to pee into the bowl. Not missing, not even a little.

It was kind of amazing actually, especially when he finished and hit the flush lever. He turned around, looking smug, and gave a self-satisfied yip.

Trying hard not to laugh, his grin wide on his face, Merlin said, "I had no idea dogs could do that. I thought you'd have to pee on a tree or something."

If only Arthur could talk, Merlin was sure he'd be berated within an inch of his life. As it was, eyes narrowed, teeth bared a bit, Arthur gave a little growl, then an indignant sniff. It would have been funny if things hadn't been so dire.

Merlin threw up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right. I made a mistake. I make them sometimes, you know. It's not like I'm a mind reader."

Arthur didn't seem to think that Merlin was apologetic enough. Had he boots, he'd have been stomping back into the lounge. As it was, the stiff tail and raised fur was a hint that maybe Arthur was still miffed. He certainly refused to look at him.

But it didn't matter because Merlin was standing there, staring at nothing, thinking hard. He'd finally realised where he'd gone wrong. He didn't need a spell for speech. He needed one for reading minds.


	3. Chapter 3

Once he knew what he was looking for, it was fairly easy. At least he didn't have to wade through pages of charlatans' spells over the internet – there were so few of true magic left that he discarded nearly everything he read. But his own book collection held volumes of powerful spells and recipes for numerous potions. As luck would have it, he had the ingredients, too, among the scores of boxes and vials in his bedroom.

Getting it down Arthur's throat was another matter. Gaius's potions had always tasted terrible, and while Merlin tried to make it better, the smell wasn't the greatest. As the putrid-green concoction bubbled and frothed, it seemed okay to Merlin's nose, but once it cooled, even he wanted to vomit from the odour. Arthur, with his more sensitive sense of smell, was not happy.

"Come on, Arthur, it isn't as bad as you think." Already up against the bookcase, his fur raised, his teeth bared, Arthur was having none of it. "I know it smells awful but you want to talk to me or not?" There was a very pointed growl going along with the shake of Arthur's head. "I put honey in it, too. And a bits of cinnamon and rose for extra magical punch. It's not that bad."

The fierce stare spoke volumes but Merlin wasn't about to give up. "Okay, fine. Without your help, I won't be able to change you back, but then again, maybe being a dog might suit you. You can always cower under the bed and hide when Morgana comes back. I'm sure she'll find it immensely satisfying to know that she'd won after all."

It was a pretty under-handed thing to do, but he was getting desperate. They'd already wasted hours on this and there wasn't much time left.

Something must have got through, though. Arthur shook himself, then stalked over to Merlin, growling, fussing all the way, and when he opened his mouth. Merlin didn't need to be told twice. He poured the concoction down Arthur's throat as quickly as he could.

As he stood back, he said, "Think something at me, Arthur. Let's see if it worked." And in his mind, he repeated it. ' _Think something, Arthur. Please, I hope it….'_

 _'You absolute cabbage-headed git. Arse. When I'm done with you, wanker…, bollocks, that was foul.'_

Merlin was so thrilled to finally be able to communicate that he just let Arthur ramble on a bit, growling and obviously trying to use every insult he knew to hurl at Merlin.

 _'Stocks for a month, make sure the horses come over and piss on you. I'll personally… disgusting. You better hear me, you twat. I'll have your bollocks if it doesn't work.'_

"Arthur, I can hear you." Wanting to give Arthur a hug, he stepped closer and knelt down next to him. But Arthur was having none of it. Backing up, growling his displeasure, still something must have got through.

 _'Still furious. Worst thing ever. Going to fart._ ' And then he let out a long, long, smelly one.

Merlin wasn't sure if it was deliberate or not, but it did bring back memories of long ago with Uther and that bloody goblin. Still, he couldn't blame Arthur for being miffed. But he couldn't let it go on too long. They had things to do.

"Now that you've let out your displeasure, Your Majesty, can we get back to the matter at hand?" Sitting on the sofa, he patted the place next to him, a clear invitation.

Arthur gave a little shudder, then jumped up and sat down at the far end. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at Merlin, then seemed to relax a bit. _'Better not make the next one that disgusting or I'll have you for breakfast.'_

At least he sounded like the old Arthur at last. "Much as that sounds wonderful, I need to know where Morgana kept you. We can't ignore that she's a danger to you or even herself. Can you describe the place? A cave, a house, a hovel deep in the woods?"

 _'Kept me underground most of the time.'_ Arthur didn't sound happy about it although Merlin wouldn't have been happy either. _'Old. Musty. Wet. A cellar, maybe? Dungeon? Not a cave, though. It was near the park. Half ruined. Crumbling but some of it looked lived in. A small keep?''_

"That sounds like the house over on the old Roman road. A keep during Camelot's time, complete with moat and dungeons. It was abandoned centuries ago. Someone did try and rebuild it in the 1800s, but they ran out of money, although a cottage remains. There was talk of a new owner, someone who wanted to restore the keep fully but I thought nothing of it." Merlin tried to remember what he'd seen of the place but he'd never been inside. At least he knew where she was hiding. It wouldn't be easy but it was better than nothing. "If the dungeon was unblocked, she could have kept you there. How did you get out?"

 _'She was beating me. Laughing about how she enjoyed it….'_ Arthur's eyes were full of anguish and Merlin wanted to throttle Morgana all over again. _'She tied me up but I managed to slip the collar. Door was open. Knew it was my only chance. Rushed her, made her stumble. Then ran as fast as I could and you were there._ '

"I'm glad I was, too." Merlin gave him a little smile, then turned sombre again. "I need information if we are going to fix this. Can you tell me what you heard when you were at Morgana's?"

Turning away just a little, it seemed that Arthur was actually trying to think. His nose down, his bushy eyebrows crunched into a scowl, he sat there, quiet, at least quiet in the normal sense. His thoughts were a little less so.

 _'I loved her. My sister. Witch. Hurting me every way she can. Made me do things. Threatened to kill anyone who helped me.'_ Flopping down on the sofa, whining in his throat, Arthur seemed to grow more upset now that Merlin could hear him. _'You are in danger. It's a… a trap. Can't let that happen. Don't know how to fix it. Need my sword. Need it. Now._ '

Even in thought, Arthur was always trying to protect him. "Arthur, Arthur, I'm the one to fix this. Magic, remember?"

Arthur gave a sharp sniff. _'Idiot. She's powerful. Hates you. I don't think….'_

Merlin couldn't stand to see how upset Arthur was getting. Sliding down to the other end of the sofa, he started to stroke Arthur's fur, all the while murmuring soft tones and nonsense words. Sending deliberate, soothing thoughts Arthur's way, Merlin hoped it would calm him down. _'Arthur, it's okay. She has nothing on me. I've lived far longer than her. Gathered power, too, knowing that she'd come back. She won't hurt me as long as you are all right.'_

Arthur arched up into Merlin's hand, letting the caress settle into his fur, his tail wagging just a little. _'Missed you so much. Best friend. Wanted there to be more but couldn't let you know how much….'_ Suddenly, his eyes wide with upset, he ducked his head down as he tried to shake off Merlin's hand. _'Can you hear everything I think? Bloody hell, make it stop.'_

Merlin could have pretended that he hadn't heard, let Arthur retain some dignity, but under the worry, there was a blossom of warm hope there, not just Arthur surviving Morgana's spell but maybe something more between them.

"Arthur, it's okay. Strong emotion will do that." Arthur let out a long whine, tried to bury his nose under his paws but Merlin was too fast for him.

Dropping to the floor, his face near Arthur's, Merlin put both hands around furred ears and gave him a little shake. "If you are calm and think more clearly at me, I won't be able to hear anything you don't want me to. So how about we try and come up with solutions and then we can worry about other things."

It took a while but finally Arthur must have realised that whatever he was thinking, it wasn't important enough for the moment. There was a jumble of worry and love and more worry but he finally sat up, shook his fur a little, and nodded.

 _'I woke up on a stone slab. Naked. No clothes. It was embarrassing.'_

Merlin swore that if Arthur had not had fur, he'd be blushing. As it was, the shame in his eyes was enough. Sitting back on the sofa, he gave Arthur a little pat, encouraging him to go on. "Describe the setting. I need to know exactly what was going on to try and figure out which transmutation spell she used so I can counter it."

Sitting hunched, his tail tucked under him, Arthur growled a bit. But Merlin knew it wasn't him that Arthur was angry with. _'Morgana stood over me. With a knife. Red, glowing. Not metal. Crystal. Magical knife. Blood. I think it was hers. Blood on the handle dripping into my mouth and slimy stuff slipping in. Poured something into my throat. Bitter, awful, worse than yours. I tried to spit it out but she forced it down. She was chanting, a spell while she did it. I thought she was going to kill me. I felt weak. Couldn't move.'_

Some of it made sense. Blood was a powerful tool in magic. If Morgana had infused some of what she was feeding Arthur with her blood, she could tie him to her, make him change into whatever form she wanted. Even make him do things against his will and Arthur would be helpless against her.

Arthur gave a little shudder, whining. _'She plunged the dagger into my heart but it disappeared, I think. Pain there but no blood. Then I started to change. Agony. Bones breaking. Growing smaller. Skin on fire as the fur grew.'_

It must have hurt terribly. Even when Merlin changed into Dragoon and kept the same shape, still his bones would ache for days after. "It might be painful when we turn you back, Arthur. I'll try and give you something for it but to reverse something like that may be difficult for you."

Arthur put his muzzle back down on his paws. _'Believe in you. Will help.'_

"Then what happened?"

 _'Morgana laughing at me. Placed a collar on my neck. Dragged me off the slab. Things started to smell horrible. Colours changed, too. My head felt too big for my body. Trying to talk was impossible. I was too close to the ground. My hands, so small. Covered in fur.'_

Another whimper as Arthur tried to fold himself into a tiny ball under Merlin's hand. Even with the mind speech, Merlin could tell how much humiliation Arthur was feeling, to be so changed and not be able to do anything about it. _'A dog. Not a man.'_

"I know that it's hard, Arthur. Sometimes changing to another form can be disorienting. When I was the Dolma, it felt so wrong but when I changed back, it took a while to move properly again. I kept thinking I had breasts." He tried to sound indignant, hoping to make Arthur less uncomfortable about the situation. After all, he liked to laugh at Merlin all those years ago. Maybe it could help now.

 _'Always said you were a girl.'_ Arthur did sound a little better, a little less horrified about it all.

"And you were right but only once." Merlin smiled down at him, started petting him again to keep him calm. "This is important, Arthur. I need to know exactly what she gave you and what she said. Anything you can remember."

 _'I don't remember the spell. Strange words. Bebede, thine, flask, gelic nissy? Then something about a dog and onward.''_ Arthur seemed unsure but that was to be expected. After all, he had never learned anything of the Old Religion.

"Bebiede?Lætest þine flæsc sclice gelic nysse?"

Arthur turned his head toward Merlin, was blinking up at him, frowning. Pushing his nose into Merlin's thigh a moment, he shifted closer, lifting his head and resting it on his knee. Looking for comfort. Merlin continued to stroke his head, happy to feel the soft fur under his hand.

After a while, letting the silence linger and relaxing into the warmth of Arthur against his leg, Merlin said, "It's a transformation spell. Fairly simple although the ingredients that accompany it are more complicated. And deadly if not handled correctly. Can you describe what the potion tasted like?"

 _'Horrible, bitter. Iron from her blood. Some kind of leaves around my head. They smelt awful. There was a berry in that potion, just one. Red, round. She made a point of showing to me before she squashed it and put it in. Then some dried leaves. Little pieces which smelt spicy as she crumpled them into it.'_

Arthur buried his nose between Merlin's legs, as if trying to hide. Merlin just kept petting his head, one long stroke at a time, hoping that the repetition would help. "Red berries, perhaps nightshade although two of those could kill you. The dried leaves could be any number of herbs although wormwood comes to mind. It's used in curses quite a bit. Brings about visions and hallucinations."

 _"Explains me seeing things. Death stalking, my father shrieking at me, killing you with my bare hands. And wailing. I thought I'd gone mad. She laughed. Had a root in her hand, man-shaped but covered in more black slime. Had a string around its neck, strangling it as she pulled. Could hear it screaming. Nightmares. Nettles all around me, thorns in my paws. Pain everywhere.'_

"I'm sorry, Arthur. If I had known, I would have done everything in my power to stop her." Merlin wanted to kill Morgana all over again. Her vindictiveness against someone who had loved her unselfishly and wholly was too much. "Did she say anything else, anything at all?"

 _'Told me I had a week, then I'd forget about being human.'_ He pushed harder into Merlin's leg, trying to bury himself, shivering even as Merlin petted him. _'No way to reverse the spell, she said. Wants you dead and me… I don't… Merlin, help me.'_

"I swear to you, Arthur. I will fix this if it's the last thing I ever do." And he meant every word. Morgana was not going to win, not this time, not ever again.

* * *

 _Nu bebiede ic þe þæt þu lætest þine flæsc sclice gelic nysse._ _Docga onwæcnest_! = Behold, command I the that thou depart thine body carnal object-to-object change. Dog awaken!


	4. Chapter 4

By the time midnight rolled around, Merlin was pretty disgusted. The internet was too full of misdirection, little things that might have been helpful turning into dead ends, or else there was a fuck-ton of information out there that Merlin knew was ridiculous and completely worthless. People made things up all the time, hoping to gain some kind of tribute or popularity or perhaps from a sense of mean-spiritedness. It was frustrating as hell.

Trying to figure out the real magic from the fake was just taking too long and finally Merlin gave up. He turned back to his many books. At least he knew those were real.

Arthur must have been exhausted because he'd fallen asleep hours ago. Sprawled at Merlin's side on the sofa, Arthur's paws were shivering with a kind of muted energy as if he were running or chasing something in his dreams. Once in a while, he'd give a little whimper, too, but settled as soon as Merlin brushed his hand over Arthur's warm fur. He didn't wake, but even though Merlin thought he might disturb Arthur's sleep, he was reluctant to stop. As he gathered more books to look through, he'd caress the doggy head or feel the silk of floppy ears and it was much reassurance for Merlin as comfort for Arthur.

So he plodded on, looking through manuscripts and scrolls and books dusty with age, looking for anything that could break the curse.

And at three in the morning, Merlin finally stumbled across an old spell, buried in one of his ancient books, that might work.

He didn't want to get too excited, though.

That he'd finally found something was good news and even better news was that he had most of the ingredients already or knew where to find them quickly.

The bad news was that he'd also needed Morgana's blood to counteract the spell.

He just didn't know how he was going to tell Arthur.

* * *

A dog's yelp and a loud crash of books and metal woke Merlin. He hadn't realised that he'd fallen asleep, but in an instant, he was on his feet, hands out, ready to use battle magic. Gathering power, flames at his fingertips, as his vision cleared, instead of Morgana, a sulky, guilty-looking Arthur was not-quite-cowering in the corner. It was clear from the chaos that Arthur had been busy.

But as Merlin looked around, Arthur seemed to straighten, lifting his muzzle and frowning up at him. _'Out. Need to go out.'_

"Arthur, Morgana might be watching the house. I don't think…."

But Arthur wasn't listening. Instead, he stalked over to the door and began to tear at it. The clicking sounds of his claws against the wood would have been endearing in other circumstances, but Merlin was growing ever more alarmed at Arthur's frantic attempts to get outside.

Inside Merlin's head, Arthur's thoughts seemed just as wild – and somehow less human. _'Out. Find smells. Mark what's mine. Need to pee. Need to shit. Out.'_

"You used the loo before." Merlin squatted down next to Arthur, petting him in an attempt to calm him down.

 _'Can't sit on seat. Tried.'_ Arthur gave a little sneeze, then growling deep in his throat, glared up at Merlin. _'Out. Too dusty here.'_ Shaking Merlin's hand off, he started scratching at the door again. _'Out.'_

"I'll put papers down in the loo for you and we can open the windows." This was serious. Arthur seemed out of control, every second more agitated. "Arthur, you'll be safer in the flat. I've set up wards so she can't get in but I can't protect you outside, not and fight her off. Morgana…."

 _'Out. Useless here. Losing… myself_.'

When Arthur was that desperate, much as Merlin wanted to keep him safe, he knew that Arthur would find a way to escape. Even as a human, Arthur could be sneaky at times and incredibly stubborn to boot. So instead, Merlin gave in. He needed to gather the rest of the ingredients for the potion anyway, then find Morgana somehow, and he couldn't do it cowering in the flat.

Kneeling down next to Arthur, cupping one furred cheek in his hand, Merlin turned Arthur's face to him. "All right. We'll go out." As Arthur's tail started wagging furiously, clearly pleased, Merlin just sighed. "Let me get what I've made up so far and we'll go shopping for the rest. Okay?"

Arthur seemed to shiver at that, his tail drooping a moment, then he looked up at Merlin and nodded. _'Out. Find Morgana_.'

Merlin's grip tightened a moment on Arthur's fur. "Once we've finished at the shop, you have to promise to stay here in the flat until I'm done getting the last ingredient."

 _'Be with you.'_ Arthur shook his head, frowned a bit. _'Protect.'_

"Arthur, it will be dangerous. Morgana isn't going to let me take what I need so easily. I ummm…" Merlin took a deep breath and let it out. "I need some of her blood."

That little nugget didn't go over well. Growling his displeasure, Arthur tried to jerk out of Merlin's hands, and even as Merlin held on, he could feel Arthur shaking with upset.

 _'No! Protect!'_

"Arthur, I can't be fighting Morgana and worried about you at the same time." Arthur's eyes narrowed again but at least he'd stopped trembling. "I know you want to protect me, you cabbage-head, but you don't have magic, and I can't…. If you come with me, she could use you against me. I'll be so busy making sure you are safe that I'll be vulnerable to her attacks." Merlin gave Arthur's fur a little pull, then smoothed his hand over Arthur's head. "Do you understand?"

Arthur seemed to consider it, then nodded. But he wasn't happy, not if the rigid back and raised fur were any indications. Giving a little sniff, Arthur turned away and began pawing at the door again. _'Out.'_

* * *

It took longer than Merlin expected to reach the herbalist's shop. Arthur, once out, was eager to explore every smell no matter where it led. It was all Merlin could do to keep him focused. There were times when he had to grab Arthur's furry neck and drag him away from a particularly pungent spot.

If things weren't so dire, Merlin would have found it amusing, even satisfying, to get a little of his own back after all the times Arthur played him for a fool. In the old days, Merlin would have laughed about it, and let Arthur be a dog for a while longer before turning him back. But this wasn't funny anymore. Time was slipping away fast, and with each moment, Arthur seemed less and less human. It was worrisome.

It didn't help that Merlin knew that they were being tracked. Like it or not, it made sense that his flat had been watched. Morgana would have left nothing to chance and she could have easily followed them home. Indeed, Merlin was almost surprised that she hadn't attacked already, trying to catch them in an unguarded moment. But then perhaps she'd known about the flat's protection spells.

But now that they were out in the open, Merlin couldn't look everywhere at once, especially with Arthur being so uncooperative. All Merlin could do was hope he'd be quick enough when the attack did come and that Morgana's plans would fail.

The herbalist's shop created another set of problems. Rosemary & Rue's owner reminded Merlin of Kilgharrah, the smell of brimstone clinging to him, the eyes following Merlin's every move, the sometimes obscure pithy comments about Merlin's latest concoction. But it was comfortable there, too, with old herbs and new, and the sense of magic in the shop.

However, Arthur wasn't happy. He took a stance by the door, his body alert, and steadfastly refused to go in. _'Guard. Protect.'_

The idiot was still trying to shield him from harm, even though knowing that Merlin could take down most enemies with a wave of his hand. It warmed Merlin a moment but it wasn't practical. Arthur was too vulnerable and Merlin certainly wasn't going to let him out of his sight.

"I appreciate the thought but we need to stick together. Besides, I can take of myself."

Thinking that maybe a dog collar might have been a good idea after all no matter how much Arthur might hate it, nevertheless Merlin wasn't going to leave him outside. With an annoyed grumble, he took Arthur by the scruff of his neck and dragged him in. Arthur's stiffened legs and sharp bark didn't help.

Luckily, once inside, Arthur seemed to settle down, staring at the doorway, sitting with his back to Merlin, all affront and annoyance. Arthur could be an absolute arse when he was thwarted, but Merlin wasn't about to give in, not this time.

The owner, Gregor Aeddan, was there behind the counter, his wizened face thoughtful as he stared down at Arthur. Then he turned to Merlin. "It would appear that he is not happy with you."

"Wouldn't be the first time. Doesn't know what's good for him." Merlin ignored the blast of inventive insults Arthur sent his way, instead handing his list to Gregor.

Merlin had been to the shop many times, and he'd never come away empty-handed. No matter how obscure the ingredient, the man always seemed to have an endless supply.

Giving Merlin a little nod, Gregor's gaze flicked down to Arthur a moment, his frown deepening with every second. "Quite a handful. A bit of a royal prat… for a dog."

"He's always been a prat. Tripped me up the day I met him." Merlin felt off-key, uncertain of what the old man was saying. He'd always been an odd one but if Merlin didn't know better, he'd say that Gregor knew more than he was letting on.

As Merlin was talking, Gregor turned away, began to get the herbs on Merlin's list, tutting occasionally as he pulled open drawers and measured out precise weights onto waxed paper. But Merlin knew he was also a font of knowledge, having lived in the village for ages. He might know where Morgana was hiding.

Thinking to confirm his suspicions, Merlin said, "Do you know who lives at the old cottage on Roman Road?"

A flash of ancient eyes seemed to judge Merlin a moment, then deliberately, Gregor folded up another herb packet and added it to the pile on the counter. "I assume you have everything else you need - carnation, hydrangea, thistle, wintergreen, agrimony, and most importantly, brimstone." That last seemed odd. How Gregor knew about what he'd used in the mixture was beyond Merlin but it couldn't be a coincidence. "The whole of them would need to be ground into a fine powder, and water added if used for ingestion." His gaze fell on Arthur again, then nodded to Merlin.

"I've ground what I had. Once I have the rest, it shouldn't take too long." Merlin couldn't help but notice that Gregor kept looking at Arthur. He'd never thought the man would be concerned about dogs in his shop, but it didn't matter anyway. They'd be gone soon enough.

"No, not long." As Merlin gathered the packets and put them in his pocket, eager to leave, Gregor gestured toward the back of his shop. "There is one last ingredient. If you could help me retrieve it? These old bones have trouble going up and down stairs these days."

Merlin didn't want to delay for even a second more than he had to, but Gregor gave a shaky sigh, looking suddenly his age or more, and Merlin couldn't say no. "Of course." Turning to Arthur, Merlin was concerned that the clotpoll was still being a total doggy prat with the way he was pointedly ignoring them both, but it couldn't be helped. In a deep, brooking-no-arguments kind of voice, he said, "Arthur, stay here. I won't be long."

When Arthur just glared at him and then let out a sharp sneeze, Merlin gave up. There wasn't much he could do about it anyway and they'd be gone soon enough.

Merlin followed Gregor back into the shop, past rough-edged corners and bags of exotics, only stopping once they were in a smaller room filled with the debris of a life long-lived. But Gregor didn't reach for a final ingredient, just stood there, ancient face soured with unease.

"There is one thing that you've not included in your list. It could be difficult to obtain."

There was only one thing missing on that list, Morgana's blood, but Gregor couldn't know that. Staring at him, uncertain of what the man was implying, Merlin shook his head. "I'll make due."

A moment later, Gregor's hand was clawing at Merlin's sleeve, holding him fast. " _She_ will not give you what you want."

Merlin's thoughts were a sudden chaotic mess, a dozen scenarios clambering for attention, all of them disastrous for Arthur. Morgana, the old man had to be talking about Morgana.

In trying to keep panic at bay, he almost missed what Gregor said next. "Or did you think to take her life's blood so easily?"

Merlin's heart stopped a moment. The old man knew everything. Merlin had been so careful over the years and the old man must have set him up somehow, must have known about Morgana and Arthur even before Merlin did. Gods above, Gregor could have packaged the wrong herbs out on the counter, could have mixed a poison in there somehow. He couldn't be trusted. With anything.

Jerking out of Gregor's grip, Merlin backed up a little, trying to get some distance between them, looking for an escape route. Thrusting out his palms, ready for the attack, Merlin said, "How did you know that?" When Gregor only shook his head and gave a great, exasperated sigh, Merlin had had enough. "Who are you?"

"She is destiny's child. As are you." It was something Kilgharrah might have said long ago, cryptic and unhelpful, but the dragon was not there. He'd died over a thousand years ago, and for just a moment, Merlin felt every year of that loss. But there was no time for old grief. If Gregor Aeddan was in league with Morgana, Merlin had very little time left before it would be too late. As Merlin took a deep breath, waiting for the first strike, in the dark corner, Gregor's eyes seemed magic bright. "Young warlock, the wheel turns and turns again. You cannot escape it."

Absurdly, infuriatingly, Merlin wanted Gregor to stop sounding like Kilgharrah. He didn't need a reminder of everything he'd lost, of everything he was about to lose if he didn't get to Morgana in time.

Angry and frustrated and afraid, Merlin said, "Are you working with Morgana? Are you?"

Gregor's face twisted into a scowl and his old-gold eyes narrowed. In the gloom, if Merlin hadn't known better, he would have said Gregor had grown taller, and that there was a movement of wings against the jumble of the shop.

But as Merlin shook his head trying to rid himself of dangerous delusions, Gregor's voice deepened into revulsion. "That witch? You foolish boy, she is the darkness to your light, the hatred to your love. I would never help her."

Merlin had heard that before, that exact phrase, spoken with the same bottomless loathing. Only then it had been a cave and a dragon and Merlin asking for help once more.

The wings were still there, shadows among shadows, and Gregor's face was narrower, a hint of scales about his eyes, and the room seemed to be rock-walled and cavernous for a moment. It was as if Merlin had stepped back in time.

It couldn't be. But when he reached out with his magic, he could sense the same presence he'd felt so long ago, enormous and profound, feeling a kinship he thought he'd lost forever.

"You can't be… Kilgharrah?"

Gregor gave a little nod, so reminiscent of the past, then a slight smile as if unsure of his reception. Merlin would have none of it, grinning, reaching out and offering his hand. And Gregor took it, grasping arm to arm as comrades do.

When they finally let go, Gregor or rather Kilgharrah said, "I've been watching over you a long time." Merlin couldn't help feeling a bit of relief at that, but Kilgharrah turned solemn a moment later. "The wheel turns… for us all."

As swiftly as the joy of reunion had flooded Merlin, worry took its place. "Help me then. She's transformed Arthur into a dog and I'm not sure the potion will work." Merlin looked away, down at his feet, his arms curled around his chest as if trying to hold the pain inside, as he said, "It's been so long since I've tried anything more than the most rudimentary of magics. And I've been so alone."

A gentle touch on his arm and Merlin looked up again as Kilgharrah said, "Not so alone."

Then Kilgharrah looked away, frowning down at one of the drawers, then pulled out a small vial and handed it to Merlin. "I have something that might help. Water from a still lake, hidden beneath a towered hill. Where it is said a king waits."

Merlin hadn't been back to the lake in hundreds of years. It had been too painful and he'd thought that he'd know if Arthur returned so there had been no need to sit around grieving by a muddy shore. He could do that just as easily by a fireside or snug flat or so he'd thought. How wrong he'd been. Perhaps if he'd waited all those years in the cold and damp, Arthur wouldn't be a dog now, wouldn't be in danger.

But there was no time for recriminations.

"Avalon?" Merlin said. Holding it in his hand, the water in the vial looked plain enough but there was power there, too. He could feel it.

"What is in a name but truth and untruth?" When Merlin opened his mouth to object to yet another cryptic answer, Kilgharrah shook his head. "Danger approaches, young Emrys, and your time for choices. Don't let your past desires blind you to what is. Arthur is the key. He is deliverance or doom."

"Arthur will be trapped in a dog's body for the rest of his life if I don't free him soon."

"But do you trust him?" As he said it, Kilgharrah was staring at him, his yellow-old eyes narrowed as if looking into Merlin's heart.

"With my life." Merlin didn't have to think about it. There was only ever one answer.

Kilgharrah seemed to expect nothing less but he also didn't look happy about it. Stepping closer, his hand hard on Merlin's arm, he said, "And yet, young warlock, he is a Pendragon. They share blood, those two."

Jerking back as if struck, Merlin scowled at Kilgharrah. "Grudges don't become you, old friend. I would have thought vengeance over Uther's betrayal would have burnt out a long time ago."

"A thousand lifetimes would not change my heart." Lines on his face granite-set, his eyes stony, Kilgharrah looked suddenly as unwavering and vengeful as he'd been on the day he'd attacked Camelot.

"Nor mine." Merlin wasn't about to let an old dragon keep him from saving Arthur, no matter how close kin he and Kilgharrah were.

For a moment, they seemed two forces, both immovable, standing on opposite sides of a vast chasm.

But then Kilgharrah nodded, giving another long exasperated sigh as he said, "I have given you my warning, then. Take it as you will."

When Merlin relaxed a little, the old man stepped aside. But as Merlin moved past him, Kilgharrah put one hand on his arm, holding him back. "There is something else. Those of the lake were troubled. The witch had been there before me and we both know she fears you, thinks you are her doom. She wants your death. If she does not use her brother against you, I fear what else she has planned. Merlin, be careful."

For a moment, they stood there, both contemplating the battle ahead, but then as Kilgharrah let go and gestured toward the exit, Merlin said, "Thank you. When I return, I promise we will talk."

As Kilgharrah nodded, Merlin turned back toward the front of the shop. He was planning to grind everything up there and add the Avalon water to it before they left for Morgana's location. It would only take a few moments and it would be easier than doing it all at the last minute.

But it wasn't to be. Arthur wasn't there. The front of the shop was empty, and as Merlin reached out with his mind, there was silence.

"Arthur… Arthur?" He turned to Kilgharrah in horror. "He's gone. Damn him. He's gone after Morgana."


	5. Chapter 5

Panicking, instead of taking a few moments and mixing the ingredients at Kilgharrah's shop, like an idiot, Merlin ran outside. He ignored the shouts behind him.

Merlin was drowning in a storm of worry and fury and guilt. All he could think of was that Arthur was trying to be the protective cabbagehead as usual and he'd get himself killed doing it. And that it would be Merlin's fault for leaving him alone, even for a second.

At least Kilgharrah had confirmed Morgana's location, but Merlin wasn't taking any chances. As he ran, he muttered a tracking spell, and followed the little ball of blue light bobbing and weaving through traffic and parkland into the dense trees. A few moments later, the light disappeared into an old cottage half-hidden in the woods.

Morgana's cottage.

Arthur was in there. Merlin could feel it.

But by this time, worry aside, he knew he had to finish making the potion, quickly, precisely, thoroughly. In Kilgharrah's shop, he'd have had scales and mortars and time, but stupidly, all he could do now was hope he got it right.

It was killing him to slow down, to not rush in and protect Arthur, but he slumped down beside a tree and began to put everything together as quickly as he could. One eye on the cottage, his hands shaking with dread, it seemed to take a lifetime but was probably only a few moments before he was as finished as he could be.

He didn't add the water. After that disaster so long ago, where Arthur almost died because Merlin had let the vial containing the antidote slip through his fingers and break into a thousand pieces, he wasn't going to take a chance like that again.

Besides, he needed Morgana's blood. It would be easy enough to add both when the time came.

Shoving the vial into his coat pocket, he craned his neck, staring at the cottage.

There was no movement but Merlin wasn't a fool. Morgana would be waiting for him, spells and weapons and threats at the ready. But Merlin wasn't going to make it easy for her, even if the pressure to do something was a heavy thrust against his chest.

Then of course, Morgana wasn't about to let him get the upper hand, because in the next instant, everything went to hell.

Inside the cottage, there was a pained howl. Arthur's voice echoed inside Merlin's head. ' _I won't, I… you can't. Merlin!_ ' And then there was abrupt silence.

Even after a thousand years, Merlin still couldn't bear Arthur's pain. Abandoning his careful plans, he raced to the front door, blasting it open with a wave of his hand. Skidding across the stone floor, twisting his body sideways as he did, he looked around the room for Arthur.

Of course, Morgana was waiting for him. A rough pulse of magic and several objects, ordinary and everyday things, were flying at him, every one of them a potential weapon. But Merlin wasn't about to let Morgana win. With a thrust of his power, a magic shield curled around Merlin, and umbrellas and books and broken objects d'art were littered at his feet.

"So predictable. You'd do anything for your precious Arthur." She looked down, smiling, and petting the golden fur under her hand. Even at a distance, Merlin could see Arthur trembling. "But you are too late. He's mine now."

There was a long, low growl but Arthur didn't move, didn't do anything but stand there, gazing at Merlin with unreadable eyes.

Morgana gave a little chuckle. "Pathetic really. That it would come to this. Arthur under my spell and you powerless to do anything about it."

His throat tightening until he could hardly breathe at the thought of Arthur's life in her hands, he said, "I'll never forgive you, Morgana, if you do this." As Morgana's mouth curled into triumph, Merlin took a step closer, his palms up, trying to placate her with open hands and an open heart. "Let him go and you can walk away and I won't follow. If you let him go, I'll forget that you ever tried to hurt him. I give you my word."

"Your word?" Her reply was ugly, full of fury and grief and endless pain. "When last we met, you thrust a sword into my heart. And you think I'd accept your word that you wouldn't stab me in the back as soon as I turn away?" She shook her head. "Don't be absurd."

"I'm not you, Morgana. I'll keep my word." He tried to put every ounce of promise into his voice, as sincere as ever he could be, but he knew it was useless. She'd never agree.

For a moment, there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes but then she shook it off. "And I'll keep mine. You are finished, Emrys." Her smile turned knife-sharp as her fingers dug into Arthur's fur. "I had thought to have Arthur by my side, enjoying my brother's pathetic mongrel adoration, knowing that he'd be helpless under all that fur, and revelling in that fact. But I can see now that no matter what I do, as long as Arthur lives, you win. And I will never let that happen."

Merlin could feel it, the rising darkness, the power gathering with Morgana as centre point, and he tried to lunge forward, diving for Arthur as he shouted, "Morgana, no."

With laughter chilling and fury-deep, Morgana let go of Arthur's fur and pointed toward Merlin. "Kill him. _Acwele._ "

For the briefest of moments, time seemed to slow. Arthur stood there staring at Merlin. Morgana was by his side, her mouth pulled back in triumph, her eyes glowing hate-gold. Merlin was scrambling past sofas and overstuffed chairs, taking far too long to reach Arthur, to prevent whatever she'd been planning.

It was already too late.

Arthur shuddered, a snarl twisting at his muzzle, his eyes reddening. The fur was rising, too, on Arthur's back. It looked as if he were poised for an attack, as if he were seeing Merlin as the enemy.

But that wasn't possible. It couldn't be that Morgana had him under her spell, not now. Not after all they'd been through together.

As Merlin pulled up short and then began to back away, suddenly alarmed, he said, "Arthur, it's me. It's Merlin. You know me. I'm your friend, I'm here to rescue you." There was no acknowledgement in Arthur's eyes, only bared teeth and an unblinking stare. Merlin took another step backward, trying to give himself a little space in the crowd of furniture. "Arthur?"

Arthur's throaty growl grew louder, more menacing. In the distance, he could hear Morgana's exultation, as she chanted again the command to kill him. " _Acwele Emrys!_ "

In the static of Merlin's mind-link with Arthur, there was a brief pulse of fury, not words but such emotion that it made his skin crawl. Then he didn't have time to think.

Arthur leapt up, jaws wide, aiming straight for Merlin's throat.

Scrambling over the sofa, trying to put distance and obstacles between him and Arthur, Merlin flung up one arm to shield his face from Arthur's fury.

There were objects whizzing past Merlin's ear, and pulses of pain where they hit. Morgana was merciless, trying to distract him with shards of broken pottery, paintings, heavy books. She was playing him. She was letting Arthur take the lead in the attack, knowing that it would kill Merlin if he had to hurt Arthur to protect himself.

And if he did, he'd never forgive her.

But then there was no more time for thought.

Arthur clambered over the sofa, all howls and mad fury as his teeth sunk into Merlin's arm.

Agony jolted through him. Broken skin, muscles tearing as Merlin tried to fling Arthur off, there was such pain that his vision greyed a little and he couldn't breathe.

He knew he only had a few moments before Morgana would destroy him. But he couldn't think, couldn't plan an attack, couldn't do anything but try and make Arthur stop.

Rolling onto the floor, Arthur towering over him, paws hard against Merlin's chest as he attacked, Merlin tried desperately to get away even as Arthur's teeth sunk deeper into his arm. Sparks of agony writhing all up and down his side, Merlin brought up one foot and kicked out as hard as he could.

Something must have connected because Arthur let go, howling in pain as he did. There was blood on his muzzle and his eyes were still crazed with hatred, but all Merlin could think of was to stop him before he attacked again.

Off to one side, Morgana was screaming out commands, loathing in her voice. " _Acwele, ácwele, ácwele!"_ There were more things flying toward Merlin, too, sharp-edged crockery and splintered wood and bits of crystal dropping from the chandelier overhead.

Trying and mostly failing to ignore the pain of his ruined arm, Merlin pushed back, a wall of force stopping most of whatever Morgana was sending toward him.

But Arthur was another worry. His head whipping back and forth as if to rid himself of something, Arthur seemed to be shaking the pain away. Then as he gathered strength, he lunged forward again.

Merlin was ready for him this time. Grabbing Arthur's neck with his uninjured hand, he tried to keep Arthur from ripping Merlin's throat to shreds as they grappled on the floor. Arthur was a wild dog bent on destruction. Blood and saliva was dripping from his mouth, his teeth bared in rage. His paws were digging into Merlin's stomach, scrapping claws against him. It felt as if Arthur wanted to tear out his guts.

His arm pulsing in agony, as Arthur's leg shoved against Merlin's balls, striking sharp and fast, Merlin tried not to whimper. It was too much, too much. The pain was almost overwhelming. His mind started to shut down as he curled in a little, trying to protect himself. If he didn't do something soon, it would be far too late.

He had to, he had to.

Whispering regrets, Merlin shoved magic toward Arthur. " _Upflíeh, Arthur_."

Up and up, Arthur rose, howling as he tried to fight it, all struggling limbs and teeth as invisible bonds pulled him farther into the room. But as Merlin flung out his hand, Arthur flew higher into the air, then crashed against the bookcase in the far wall. There was a sickening thud as he slid to the floor and lay there, unmoving.

* * *

 _Séce Arthur, scir_ scíma = pursue Arthur, bright light.

 _Acwele_ = kill

 _Upflíeh_ = Fly up _  
_


	6. Chapter 6

For an endless moment, Merlin just lay there, horrified at what he'd done. As he watched, a cascade of books came avalanching down over Arthur. Morgana's laugh was a shrill counterpoint to the noisy chaos.

"Bravo, Emrys. I didn't know you had it in you." Her voice was triumphant, satisfied, almost indulgent.

Merlin couldn't stand it, knowing that she's given him no choice. Shaking himself free of despair, he rose up, careful not to jostle his torn arm. There were bruises in his stomach, in his groin, more distant hurt, but worse were waves of pain in his hand and forearm every time his heart beat. Distantly he wondered if the blood trickling down his fingertips and falling onto the beautiful carpet would stain.

"I'll never forgive you for this, Morgana."

She was standing there by the fireplace, despised smirk on her face, one hand holding onto the mantle, fingertips busy with the ornate moulding, the other folded back behind her. Merlin craned his neck to see what she might be hiding there, but she turned a little, keeping whatever it was –a weapon perhaps or magical object but nothing good, nothing that would not hurt when she finally unleashed it - out of sight. Nodding toward an unmoving Arthur, then her gaze flicking back to Merlin, she said, "Of course, you won't. You eradicated the last of our kind, promised peace and prosperity and brought only cruel death to me and mine." Her face hardened, scowl twisting her mouth back into hatred. "I do not want your forgiveness."

Her body half-turned as she stepped toward him, she said, "I want your destruction."

In the split-second between her words and the sudden twist of her shoulder, her arm coming up fast, Merlin knew something was wrong. He should have expected it. Morgana was always one for the grand gesture.

Then a sword was gleaming in the light, gold and silver and deadly, flying fast toward him, aiming straight for Merlin's chest.

He didn't have time to think. Slowing the blade a fraction with magic, he let it go past him and embedded itself up to the hilt into an overstuffed chair. A loud 'thwack' followed, the sound of steel destroying wood. Morgana's voice was raging. As he glanced back at the ruined chair, the sword seemed puzzlingly familiar. And then horrified, he realised that somehow, somewhere, she'd found Excalibur.

Furious, hatred pounding in his chest, unthinking, he sent a lightning bolt toward her. It was instinct, nothing more, a reaction to destroy, to make her pay.

She may have been high priestess, but against Merlin she was helpless. The brilliant light crackled around her, deafeningly loud. As it hit her, there was smoke rising, and the smell of ozone and cooked meat was strong in the room. She fell backwards into a side table, shrieking in pain as she tried to put out the flames with hands and magic. Then she collapsed, a huddled mass on the fireplace hearth, everything suddenly quiet.

Merlin didn't wait to see if she was dead. He turned away, whispering prayers to whatever gods were listening that Arthur might live, crawling past overturned chairs and shredded rugs, toppling a floor lamp in his desperation to reach him.

He almost didn't want to touch Arthur, afraid of what he might find. Ignoring the agony of his arm, brushing aside books and paperweights and a thousand things that he could not name, Merlin's hand hovered over Arthur's chest. But as he watched, Arthur twitched, one soft ear lifting, and moaning, he opened his eyes.

Babbling joy, Merlin began to rub fingertips through the golden fur, looking for damage, looking for miracles. There didn't seem to be anything broken.

"Are you hurt? Can you walk? We need to get away… I need to…."

Arthur just lay there, growling slightly, otherwise uncommunicative, no thoughts sent Merlin's way. It was worrying. It could be that he was still under Morgana's spell, but at the moment, Merlin didn't care. Arthur was alive.

Now he would have to move fast. While Morgana was still unconscious, Merlin would need to gather some of her blood to reverse the spell. At least, Arthur would be safe from her commands while she was comatose, and once he was transformed, Arthur should be able to resist any magical compunctions - or so Merlin hoped.

As he stood up, Merlin said, "Arthur, stay here. I'll take care of this. You just… Arthur?"

Growling in his throat, Arthur's muzzle turning back into hate, and Merlin just wanted to howl in frustration. Morgana's spell was stronger than Merlin had hoped. But he couldn't let Arthur attack him again. Swearing under his breath a moment, as Arthur rose up with threat in his eyes, all Merlin could do was sigh and say, " _Swefe_."

There was a flash of thwarted rage, then Arthur lay down, resisting all the way as he put his head on his paws, and closed his eyes.

Whispering his regrets, Merlin turned away. His fears over Arthur's well-being had made him foolish. He should have got Morgana's blood first and then dealt with Arthur. But it was too late to worry about it. Better to focus on what he needed to do next.

Sending magic toward his arm, the waves of healing power were only barely enough. It stopped the throbbing a little, but he had never been good with those kind of spells. The best he could hope for was a lessening of pain and perhaps not bleeding to death all over Morgana's carpets. Still, as he moved toward Morgana, he snagged a scrap of curtain lying on the floor and wound it around the torn skin. Protection for the moment. He'd deal with the rest of it later – if he survived.

Morgana was a motionless shape by the fireplace. She could have been faking it, waiting for Merlin to come close enough to attack, but luck or fate or a fluke had given him a moment's reprieve. She didn't move, just lay there unconscious, as he gathered a few drops of her blood into the vial.

When it was done, when he'd added the final ingredient of Avalon's water to the vial, for a long time, he just knelt there, thinking, deciding whether or not to kill her before she woke. It would be ruthless, something Uther would do, and even Arthur might agree were Merlin to ask him.

But Merlin couldn't hate her even now. He'd made her the way she was, all those years ago. Murdering her would destroy a small part of him, too.

In the end, he decided to leave it to Arthur's justice. It might have been the coward's way out, but he was tired of killing.

With a pained sigh - he really did need to work on his healing skills, he rose, then hurried over to Arthur's side. " _Alynne hine,_ _ealdorgeard_ _hæftling_." One final push of magic into the vial and it was glowing a soft blue, a sure sign that he'd made the potion correctly after all.

But he wasn't stupid enough to wake Arthur first.

Lifting Arthur's furred head, a gentle tug along one soft doggy ear, Merlin pushed Arthur's mouth open and poured the liquid down his throat. Massaging his neck to make sure Arthur swallowed it all, as Merlin's heart filled with worry and hope and more worry about what would happen next, he sat back and waited to see if Arthur would survive this.

It didn't take long.

There was a distressed whimper, and Arthur's limbs were suddenly busy, pushing outward, then folding in as if pained. His eyes opened, then closed, and he shoved his head into Merlin's thigh, not biting or trying to tear him to shreds, but almost as if he were hiding. There was another whine, turning quickly into moans of pain.

Arthur woke then, jerking back, screaming as his limbs seemed to melt and morph, lengthening, deforming and reforming almost faster than Merlin could grasp. There was fur everywhere and Arthur was struggling for breath even as he shrieked again. His body arched up, his paws turning into hands, but it seemed as if every moment was agony as Arthur twisted and turned, fighting to get away from the pain.

There was nothing Merlin could do. He didn't know if interference, magical or otherwise, would affect Arthur somehow. It could make things worse, perhaps keep him from returning to a fully human form. But it destroyed him to see Arthur in so much pain. He knelt there, running his uninjured hand down Arthur's side, whispering soothing words, and tried not to cry.

It seemed an eternity, flashes of white skin and matted fur, limbs shaking and changing back and forth, Arthur's head thrown back as he screamed himself hoarse. But it was really only a few moments later and Merlin could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Laying there, Arthur looked as he always had in Camelot, sleek and golden and alive. It didn't matter that he was covered in sweat, his lip trickling blood from where he'd bitten it in his agony, hair matted and unkempt. He was still breathing hard, the sounds from his throat rough and pain-filled, but he was alive. He was human. He was Arthur come back again and Merlin could only rejoice in it.

"Arthur, are you all right? Anything odd, anything that hurts? Well, yes, I know it hurts but I think, I hope that you aren't still… you aren't a dog in human form, are you? I don't know if I can fix that." He was babbling, he was relieved, he was waiting for one word from Arthur. "Would you like me to find you some clothes? Oh, of course you would. How about if I… can you speak at all? You need to say something. Arthur, please."

For a moment, Arthur just lay there, blinking, then as fast as he could, he scrambled up. Looking first at Merlin and then at Morgana's huddled body, he snarled out, "You've killed her. Murderer."

With a wild sweep of his fist, he punched Merlin in the face. It was a not-quite glancing blow, yet powerful enough to send Merlin reeling backwards. He hadn't expected it. He had thought that turning Arthur back into a human again would be enough.

What a fool he'd been.

At least Merlin hadn't landed on his injured arm. Arthur was relentless, though, kicking at him as he clambered back, Merlin trying to get out of bare feet and fury. It would have been ridiculous if it hadn't been so dire. Arthur, the warrior, naked, and attacking Merlin as if he wanted to tear him to pieces.

"Arthur, stop. Don't make me hurt you again." But Arthur wasn't listening, wasn't doing anything but trying to inflict as much pain on Merlin as he could. "She's not dead. Arthur, stop!"

But Arthur didn't pay any attention. Instead, looking around, he picked up a broken table leg, and began swinging it at Merlin, using it as much of a sword as blunt weapon.

It was hard to avoid Arthur's relentless attack. Merlin was still breathless from the pain in his arm and the loss of blood. As he stumbled back, Arthur got in a solid hit. Bones crunched in Merlin's bad hand and his vision greyed out for a moment.

He'd forgotten about Morgana.

As Arthur moved to hit him again, Morgana was awake, up and running toward him, grabbing a crystal vase as she came closer, then throwing it at Merlin, using magic to speed it up. It flashed past his face, the etched glass shattering on the table-top near Arthur.

It didn't faze Arthur. His arm was bleeding from a stray shard and he must have had glass in his leg as he stepped closer, but Arthur didn't even flinch. Swinging the wooden table leg again, he hit Merlin's arm squarely, and there was blood and bits of torn flesh flying. A terrible snap under his skin, too, and in some distant part of his mind, he knew that it was broken.

Awash in pain, Merlin shoved back, throwing off Arthur's attack with a sweep of his good arm. Rolling away, Arthur hit the sofa with a sharp crack, and for a split second, he lay there, unmoving.

Merlin didn't have time to think of the implications. Because Morgana was there, again, clawing at Merlin's back. As she thrust a piece of the broken vase into his side, agony filled his world, red torment searing across him.

He didn't have to think. His magic, chaos-strong, exploded as instinct took over.

Around him, the cottage was shaking, an earthquake of flying books and fragile curios pulverizing under his frenzy. Dust everywhere. The air was twisted with wild debris.

But his tormentor was also soaring away from him, shrieking as she did in hatred, then in pain. Screaming that turned into moans.

Merlin could hardly move. Glass was grinding away under his skin, sending out jagged bolts of pain, and he didn't dare look at his arm. He worried, too, that Arthur would get up and finish what Morgana had begun. For a moment, he just stood there, weaving, trying not to faint. He knew if he were to survive this, he'd have to know what Morgana was doing and counter it. But it almost seemed too much to bear.

Somehow, somewhere, he found the strength to turn.

It didn't seem possible. A sword was sticking out of Morgana's chest. Arthur's sword. In Merlin's frenzy, he'd flung her back toward the chair, the one where the blade had buried itself up to the hilt, where it had remained thrust outward and deadly. A sword fired with dragon's breath, able to kill anything, even a High Priestess of the Old Religion.

Her life was draining out, blood staining her dress and the beautiful carpet underneath her. Pale face, lips almost white in pain, she was mouthing out something even as she tried to tug fruitlessly at the sword. As Merlin leaned closer, she looked up. "I curse you for all etern…," she snarled out. Then slumping forward, her body slowly, slowly falling off the sword and into the pool of blood, she breathed once, twice, and then stilled.

Morgana was dead.

For a moment, Merlin just stood there, the room spinning, his arm and side a terrible throb of absolute agony. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do anything if Arthur was still under Morgana's spell. He didn't have enough strength, barely had enough to stand. And then he was on the floor, sitting next to Morgana and trying not to cry.

If Arthur wanted to end it, Merlin didn't have it in him to fight. He just sat there, cradling his arm, breathing agony in and out and in again, waiting for whatever would come next.

"Merlin?"

The voice was soft enough, tentative. Arthur's voice. Not screaming at Merlin in hatred but sounding worried, as if he didn't know how Merlin would react.

It didn't make sense but Merlin looked up anyway, blinking and confused and feeling like he was about to faint or vomit or both.

Arthur was kneeling there, one hand reaching out and then pulling back. There was blood dribbling down his arm, sluggish, and Merlin sat there, watching a droplet slow and catch in the fine hairs on the back of Arthur's hand and wondering why Arthur was bleeding, why Arthur was still naked.

"Merlin, can you stand?" Arthur was offering one hand, as if he was prepared to help him up but Merlin just flinched back.

"I… no." It was growing harder and harder to think. His vision was greying on the edges, little black spots, too.

"You're bleeding." Arthur sounded like he was going to cry and that wasn't right. Arthur never cried, at least not for Merlin.

"Yes. She cut me. Glass." Merlin glanced down, frowning at the mess, skin torn, blood soaked into what looked like a curtain on his arm but not remembering how it got there. Puzzled, he looked up again. "You… broke my arm. Hand, too, I… think. Going to… faint." Grey vision closing, turning into darker and darker as he said, "Arthur, make it… make it quick." And then there was only black.

* * *

" _Swefe_." = Sleep

 _"Alynne hine, ealdorgeard hæftling."_ Release him from his spirit's prison.


	7. Chapter 7

Waking up in his room wasn't what Merlin had expected to do. In hospital maybe, although not waking up at all had been a distinct possibility.

He ached all over, almost as if he'd been run over by a lorry several times and left for dead. There were blossoms of bruise all down his arm and hand, bone-deep, and when he wiggled his fingers, there was pain there. As he moved his arm, trying to see if the joints were as bad as the rest of it, along his side where Morgana had thrust a glass shard into him, he could feel the muscles and nerves protesting. It was not agony but close enough for him to grunt out a protest.

He knew the signs. Magic could heal the worst of it, but sometimes only time and more traditional methods of rest and therapy would do the rest.

Outside his door, it was noisy, lots of hurried angry whispers, the kind that carried more than most people realise but he couldn't hear the words, just the emotion behind it. He was alone, though, no sign of how he got there or what had happened to Arthur while he was unconscious. However, it was clear that someone, someone with magic, had closed his wounds, fixed his broken bones – unless he'd been unconscious for weeks. Unlikely, but it was always possible.

He needed information first. He needed to know where Arthur was - assuming he was still alive or hadn't run away. He needed to know if the coppers had found Morgana's body and were going to arrest him for her death or at least question him about it and that could bring a whole new set of problems. Merlin had kept a low profile for centuries, avoiding anyone or anything that could get him into trouble and he wasn't about to start now. In the past, he'd used magic to hide his tracks when necessary, but sometimes instead of fixing the problem, it created a cascade effect instead. He'd learned to be cautious since then.

He needed to know how and why and who had healed him, whether it had been Kilgharrah or someone else as yet unknown.

There were too many questions and no one to ask.

For a long while, he just lay there, trying not to think, trying not to plan ahead. He must have dozed, because the next thing he remembered, he was being shaken awake by Kilgharrah.

"Well, young warlock, it seems you are a bit worse for wear since last I saw you." Kilgharrah scowled a little, a mix of worry and smugness in his face. Some things never changed. The dragon had always had that air of superiority about him, but right now, Merlin didn't have the strength to deal with it. "I did warn you about the Pendragon boy."

Merlin wasn't sure if he wanted to just roll his eyes at him at the ridiculousness of it all or punch him in the face. Perhaps a little of both.

"His name is Arthur. And you can say 'I told you so' as many times as you want. Had I known the outcome, I would have still gone after him. No matter the cost to myself." The fight must have taken more out of him than he realised. He was breathless as he struggled to sit up.

"So you have told me on more than one occasion. Perhaps you might think a little more of your worth before diving headlong into danger." Kilgharrah gave a little harrumph, then said, "But your choices were the right ones this time."

Well, that was unexpected.

With that, Merlin sank back into the covers a bit, shaking his head. He didn't know what to make of it. After all, Kilgharrah was always berating him for his foolishness and his decisions. To hear that he'd finally done something right in Kilgharrah's eyes was centuries overdue but very welcome.

Meeker than he might have done otherwise, Merlin said, "It was a near thing. I was an idiot."

"On that, we both agree." The smug face was back and the superior tone, but Merlin wasn't in the mood to deal with it.

Tired of hearing about all his faults yet again, Merlin said, "Is Arthur alright? He's not been… I haven't seen him since…." That Arthur wasn't there, that he hadn't come to make sure Merlin was alright, was worrying. If he blamed Merlin for Morgana's death or thought that Merlin had failed Arthur somehow in not coming up with a solution sooner, Merlin wasn't sure how he'd be able to change Arthur's mind. Arthur could be very stubborn, and a complete cabbage-head at times.

"He is nearby. He is distraught." Kilgharrah stared at Merlin a moment, and then, voice hard and winter-cold, he said, "As he should be."

Well, the accord between them hadn't lasted long. Scowling up at the frustrating old fusspot, Merlin said, slowly, carefully, decidedly, "He was under her spell. He couldn't help himself."

"What did you expect, foolish boy? He is a Pendragon." Kilgharrah's mouth was twisted in distaste, his eyes narrowed and fierce. "Blood will speak to blood."

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Merlin repeated, "He was under her spell. I'm sure he fought her as much as he could."

"You still defend him? You are here because of him. You almost perished because of him."

Merlin was tired of arguing with him, just plain tired of it all. Somehow gathering power, Merlin sent fiery sparks into the air, little spots of wild magic swirling around his head. "Enough!"

Something finally got through the stubborn bastard's thickheadedness. Kilgharrah nodded once, his hands open in surrender. "Your loyalty does you credit. I hope it will not be your downfall."

Accepting the very narrow victory for what it was – not that it would last long with Kilgharrah, Merlin sunk further into his pillow and lay there a moment. "What happened with… with the rest of it? Morgana?"

"Do not fear. The authorities do not know. There will be no inquiry into her death." When Merlin just stared at him, confused a moment, Kilgharrah said, "There was an unfortunate fire at the witch's cottage. There were no survivors."

"I'd hoped that I could have saved her somehow." When Kilgharrah stood there, silent but full of reproach, Merlin said, "It was my fault, you know, my fault that she was like that. And I killed her for it. Twice."

"You are too kind-hearted for your own good, young warlock." Kilgharrah shook his head. "She deserved her fate. She tried to kill you and young Pendragon both. Had she succeeded…, it does not bear thinking on."

Merlin swallowed hard, remembering the astonishment on her face as she died and the cruelty. One part of him agreed with the old dragon, that she deserved death for what she'd done, but he would always remember her kindness in the early years and wish it had turned out differently.

Not wanting to ask but realising that Arthur might like to know, Merlin said, "And the body?"

"There were only ashes in the cottage, a few bones. I imagine the police have what's left of her in a box somewhere." Kilgharrah's dry, indifferent tone made Merlin frown but he couldn't really fault the old dragon for it. "If you wish, you could claim them but there would be questions that I believe would be better not to answer."

When Merlin didn't say anything else, Kilgharrah said, "I returned the sword to Avalon's keeping. For when Albion has need of it."

One less thing to worry about. Merlin supposed that he'd have to find out eventually how Morgana obtained it and make sure it remained hidden should she ever rise again, but for now, he didn't want to think about it.

Right now, he only wanted one thing. "I have to see Arthur."

His injuries ignored as he fought to get up and go find Arthur, Merlin gave a little grunt of protest when Kilgharrah pushed him back down again. But he didn't force the issue. In that small movement, it was clear that the weakness was still there, still dogging him. It was bloody annoying.

"Be still, young warlock. Your internal organs were traumatized, several of them sliced badly enough that even I had trouble healing them. If you had not been who you are, you would surely have died from blood loss alone."

Too tired to really protest, still it was with a bit of petulance that Merlin said, "It wasn't his fault."

"So you say." Kilgharrah let the moment lengthen, gazing down at Merlin with a kind of distant distress, his mouth working as if trying to find the words he knew would be unwelcome. Finally, he let out a long sigh, sounding almost pained as he said, "Merlin, I should warn you. Albion's greatest time of need is not at hand. Arthur is not meant to be here. Not now nor for many years to come."

After all that time, a thousand years of waiting and more, to finally have Arthur there and then to be told that he might lose him again, was too much. Held fast under Kilgharrah's grip, he was shaking with fury. His side hurt from the movement, but even deeper, the pain in Merlin's chest was knife-sharp. "Don't you even… I've waited forever for him. And now that he's returned, I'll be damned if I'm letting him go again."

Kilgharrah must have known that Merlin would react poorly. But he held on until Merlin's anger leached away. Finally, Kilgharrah let go, then stood back, looking almost as ancient and as resigned as Merlin felt. "I cannot foresee the future. It has become muddied with the witch's interference. Whether destiny will right itself is beyond my ability to predict."

Merlin had to swallow around the lump in his throat as he said, "Is he going to die?"

"We all die, Merlin. Some sooner than others." His voice was sharp, but then Kilgharrah seemed to shake himself free of whatever was troubling him. More gently, he said, "I do not know. It could be today, it could be tomorrow, it could be decades from now. But he is only supposed to rise when Albion needs him, not before."

Kilgharrah's words seemed to echo in Merlin's head, of Albion and needs and destiny. But Merlin had had enough of destiny. What had it cost him but a thousand years of loneliness and he wasn't willing to endure a thousand more.

"I want to see him." Merlin gestured for Kilgharrah to help him sit up. He wasn't going to face Arthur like some helpless invalid. But once he was leaning against the headboard, it took more than a few moments before Merlin could breathe easily again. "I think he's been avoiding me. I don't want him thinking I hate him."

From the doorway, Arthur said, "You should hate me."

"Arthur!" Merlin couldn't keep the relief out of his voice nor did he want to. But as Arthur swayed by the doorway, clearly uncertain of his welcome, Merlin said, "I was wondering where you'd got to."

Arthur opened his mouth, closed it again, then shrugging, pushed himself into Merlin's bedroom. He looked awful, bruises mottling one side of his face, his lip swollen and split. He was limping, too, and winced as he stumbled over the edge of the doorway. Stopping just inside, he stood there, waiting, as defeated as Merlin had ever seen him.

It would seem that Kilgharrah was unsympathetic to Arthur's plight. His eyes narrowed a moment, then turning his back on Arthur, he frowned down at Merlin and said, "Remember my warning."

Apparently, an ancient dragon could be as ridiculous, as childish, as a young boy pouting when he doesn't get his way. "Kilgharrah, I want to…"

But Kilgharrah just shook his head. "When you have need of me, you have but to call and I will come." Then giving Merlin a little nod of his head, still ignoring Arthur, he said, "Until then, dragonlord, be well." And with that, Kilgharrah walked out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

When the flat's door clicked shut and they were alone at last, Merlin glanced up at Arthur and said, "You look like hell."

Arthur didn't disagree, just shrugged again, flinching at little as he did so. "I've been worse."

The way Arthur wouldn't look at him was worrisome enough, but he held himself as if he was in a lot of pain and Merlin wasn't having any of it. "The bruises are easy enough to heal. Kilgharrah should have…."

"Him? I thought his name was Gregor." Arthur frowned a little bit at that, then winced again, giving a little grunt as he did so.

Merlin shook his head, then gestured Arthur to come closer. When he was ignored, Merlin said, "He's the Great Dragon reborne. His true name is Kilgharrah and he should have enough magic to heal you easily. That he did not…."

At that, Arthur did step forward, stopping just at the foot of the bed. "I didn't let him heal me."

"Because of the magic?" If Arthur still felt that magic was bad, it could be a problem. Merlin would have thought he'd be over his apprehension, especially with Merlin using magic to change him back into a human. But if Morgana's manipulations and hatred had warped Arthur further, Merlin wasn't sure what he could do to change his mind.

Lifting his chin, then standing taller, looking as if he was ready to take punishment, as if he'd been found guilty and was just awaiting the sentence that would destroy him, Arthur said, "No, because I deserve the pain."

Merlin was horrified. But when he started to protest, Arthur just shook his head. "But I _do_ deserve it. After you fainted, I was frantic. It had been all my fault and I couldn't stop the bleeding and I thought you were going to die because of me."

"Arthur…."

But again, Arthur wouldn't let him interrupt. "I didn't know what to do but Gregor… Kilgharrah showed up and he helped you when I… couldn't. Set fire to Morgana's cottage to cover up her death, then brought us back here. He's been very helpful but it's pretty clear it's only because of you." Arthur glanced back over his shoulder, then nodded down at Merlin. "He despises me. He hasn't said so but I can see it in his eyes."

"You are your father's son." Merlin wanted to hold him, fold Arthur up in his arms, and never let go. Instead, he said, "Kilgharrah remembers Uther well. And he's held a grudge for a very long time."

"He's not wrong. I betrayed you." Guilt coloured Arthur's voice and the unhappy set of his mouth spoke volumes. Arthur was collapsing inward, too, his arms wrapped around him as if to make himself smaller, no longer the brave warrior facing judgment but the condemned man awaiting the block.

Merlin couldn't stand it, could never bear to see Arthur in pain, and that had not lessened over the years. Slowly enough so that even a blockhead like Arthur could understand, Merlin said, "You were under her spell. You weren't yourself."

But Arthur could be incredibly stubborn when he thought he was right. "I should have been stronger. I broke your trust."

"Arthur, stop beating yourself up over it." Merlin wanted to shake Arthur until he saw reason, until he could look at Merlin again and smile, until he stopped trying to make himself disappear under Merlin's gaze. "I forgive you."

That got through. Arthur looked up, shaking his head. "Don't." He flushed a moment, then turning away, staring off into the distance, Arthur said, "Merlin, I lied to you, the whole time. She… she took over. I'm sorry."

As if Merlin hadn't figured that out while battling Morgana. But he hoped that it hadn't all been Morgana's doing. Some of what Arthur had said must have been genuine.

Not wanting to know the truth but realising that he'd have to know if they were going to get through it, Merlin said, "Was everything a lie?"

"It was a trap. She let me go that first day so that you'd come after her." It did not seem possible but Arthur shrunk into himself even further, as if trying to disappear. His voice lowered, too, so soft that it was barely above a whisper. "Even when I could communicate, it was only what she wanted you to hear. I guess she thought if you knew what she did to me, it would make you more susceptible to her plans. The torture was real, the spells and what I went through was real, but I could never warn you about her." When he glanced at Merlin again, his face was wet with tears. "I'm so sorry."

It hurt Merlin to see Arthur like this, almost as much as when Morgana shoved glass into his side. But he knew that Arthur was hurting, too. For a few moments, Merlin didn't know what to do. He'd tried forgiveness and understanding, but Arthur seemed to want punishment, not acceptance.

So Merlin did the only thing he could when Arthur was being too stubborn for his own good. "The stuck-up, cabbage-headed, bone-idled toad of a royal that I know would never apologise. Insult me, yeah. Call me names, throw things at me, give me chores enough for a dozen people. You do know that there were stable boys for mucking out the horses, and a kennel master for your dogs, and yeah, laundresses for your disgusting laundry, you clotpoll."

There was a fleeting ghost of a smile on Arthur's face, then wiping at his wet cheeks, he shook his head. "Merlin, you can't insult me through this or think that changing the subject would make what I've done less inexcusable. I'm not the man I was."

"Don't make me get up and pound some sense into you." Merlin shifted a little, then nodded down toward the space next to him on the bed, a distinct invitation to come closer. When Arthur didn't move, Merlin glared at him, the full-on stink-eye that Gaius used to use to great effect. "Get over here, you stupid dollophead. You are making me tired just looking up at you."

At least guilt seemed to work. When Arthur sat down next to him, still refusing to meet Merlin's eyes, Merlin reached out and grabbed Arthur's hand, holding him tight so he was less likely to escape this time. For a second, Arthur stiffened, then nodding, he seemed to relax, letting Merlin keep him prisoner, palm to palm, warmth to warmth.

Finally, when Merlin thought Arthur might actually listen, he said, "Arthur, I don't care that she used you. Well, I do care but now that she's gone, she can't hurt us anymore. Only you can do that. Please don't make it harder than it has to be."

"Merlin, Merlin, I'm sorry…." With that, Arthur leaned in, resting his forehead on Merlin's chest, whispering over and over again, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Merlin let go of Arthur's hand, wrapped his arms around him instead. It hurt a little, the just-healed wounds tightening, pulling at abused muscle but Merlin didn't care. Drawing him closer, Merlin whispered into Arthur's hair, "You are alive for the first time in a thousand years. And I've missed you every bloody day in between, you arse. If you must wallow, at least let me wallow with you."

"Kings do not wallow." Arthur sounded almost indignant but at least he didn't pull away from Merlin. He just sat there, letting Merlin hold him, seeming to relax into his embrace.

"Arthur, for maybe the first time in your life, you are free to do whatever you want. No responsibilities, no boring meetings, no putting up with back-talking servants." There was a little amused huff sounding somewhere between them, but Merlin just held on, not wanting to let go, never to let go. "I will help you, no matter what you decide to do, but I'd like to be there for you. If you want."

There was a moment of silence, of stillness between them. Then Arthur pulled back, his hands still holding onto Merlin, but his eyes gazing into Merlin's as if trying to find the truth there. "You really waited a thousand years for me?"

When Merlin nodded, Arthur looked horrified, then thrilled, then back to horrified. "Gods, Merlin, that…."

Merlin reached up to touch Arthur's face. "And I'd wait a thousand more if I had to."

Something passed between them, something intense, and it was almost too much to bear.

As Arthur's gaze bore down on him, as he leaned into Merlin's hand still cupping his cheek, Arthur said, "Not everything was a lie. I… I missed you, too." His grip tightened around Merlin, not exactly painful but close enough that Merlin remembered his wounds, but he didn't say anything, not wanting to ruin whatever moment this was. "You were my best friend, the only one I really wanted by my side. And…."

Merlin had to swallow hard. He felt like he wanted to cry and laugh and fall into joy. Instead, he said, so softly, "Arthur, you were everything to me. You still are."

At that, Arthur's smile broke through. Leaning in, both hands now cradling Merlin's face, Arthur said, "I've wanted you a thousand years ago, and I couldn't then, not with Gwen and expectations and duty. But… if you'd allow it, I would…."

Merlin surged up, ignored the pain shooting through his side, and did something he'd only dreamt of, kissing Arthur.

He was careful, trying to avoid Arthur's split lip but Arthur was kissing him back, not chastely as if they were about to ride off into the sunset like some kind of ridiculous romance novel, but filthy and hot and brilliant. It was bliss, it was terror, it was loss and gain and love and fear all swirling around like some emotional whirlwind that could destroy him. But he didn't care.

It could have gone on forever, but Merlin's side was hurting and it sounded like Arthur wasn't much better off. It could have been groans of pleasure, but when Merlin pressed in, it was a grunt and a sharp, drawn-in breath.

Much as he wanted it, he'd never hurt Arthur. Leaning back, their lips no longer warm against each other, Arthur trying to chase after him but grimacing, too, as his mouth bled a little, Merlin said, "Let me heal you first. I'm not sure if you are happy to kiss me or whimpering in pain."

Arthur was breathing hard but his eyes narrowed at that. "I do not whimper."

When Merlin let out a snort and shook his head, Arthur said, "All right, yes, it hurts but… I wanted it, I wanted this and us and…."

"So do I, you idiot, but let me help. Please." When Arthur nodded, Merlin let out a sigh of relief. He'd not been sure that Arthur would fight him on it, but now that he had permission, he settled in, placed one hand over Arthur's bruises and said, " _Ic þé þurhhæle þínu lícsár"_

Arthur gave out a little grunt, his face tightened in pain. But as Merlin watched, the bruises began to fade and when Arthur's skin was no longer purple and green and red, his lip healed and no longer swollen, Arthur smiled. "You have magic."

Merlin laughed. "Idiot. I'm not as good with healing spells as other things, but I think you'll find I'm good enough." He reached up, wiping away some of the dried blood on Arthur's cheek. "Are all your wounds healed? I didn't know just how badly you'd been injured."

"Seems to be mended. Nothing broken, mostly bruises and some cuts." Arthur pulled up one trouser leg and as Merlin leaned over, he could see the scar of a zagged gash newly pinked.

"That was more than a cut. Arthur, just how badly did I hurt you?" Merlin was horrified all over again. How typical of Arthur to downplay his wounds.

"Enough." It would seem that Arthur didn't want to talk about it, but as Merlin started to protest, Arthur said, "Leave it, Merlin. You were only protecting yourself and me and I won't have you feeling guilty for it."

"But…" Merlin said, "I don't think…."

Arthur reached out, knocked Merlin's forehead with his knuckles. "No, you don't."

When Merlin rubbed at the spot, he grumbled, "You don't either, you prat."

"At least I don't go headlong into danger without a plan." Arthur shook his head. "What were you thinking? You know she set a trap. You had to know."

"I knew." Merlin reached out, smoothed out Arthur's ruffled hair, then brushed away the remnants of the blood that had caught on one side of Arthur's face. "But you were in danger. I couldn't…."

Arthur captured Merlin's hand, and kissed the palm there. Still holding Merlin's hand, breath ghosting over his skin, he said, "I know and you know I'd have done the same for you if I'd have been in my right mind."

It had been true in Camelot and clearly it was still true now. Conceding Arthur's point, Merlin said, "We're a right pair of idiots, then."

At that, Arthur smiled, gave Merlin's hand one last caress, and let go. "Yeah, a pair. Now shut up and kiss me. I've been waiting forever for you to acknowledge that I'm always right so that we can get onto more important things."

"Always right?" Merlin laughed at that. "In your dreams, sire."

Arthur's smile turned filthy. "No, my wayward sorcerer, in yours."

And with that, Arthur surged up, bracketing Merlin's face with his hands and drowning both of them in kisses. There was movement and heat and Arthur's hands strayed, exploring Merlin's skin as if on a mission to find myriad ways to make him squirm in delight.

What Arthur didn't know is that his touch was bliss enough for Merlin. No matter where Arthur's fingers or tongue or mouth landed, it was a white-hot ache that seemed to burrow into him and out again, making him pant and moan and beg for release.

Merlin ignored whatever pull there was of the fight, of wounds still tender, of muscles aching, and sunk into Arthur's embrace. Somewhere in it all, clothes evaporated or were flung off or disappeared and Merlin didn't care why or how. All he knew was that they were skin to skin. They were devouring each other in a ferocity that was as dazzling as it was intense.

Merlin was loved, at long last, and that only made everything a bright firestorm of pleasure/pain/pleasure, driving him ever upward into ecstasy.

When they were done, when they both fell from that brilliance, they were a sticky mess, panting and sore, but so very satisfied.

Merlin was almost incoherent, lips still exploring, as he mumbled into Arthur's skin, "Love you, Arthur. Don't leave me again."

His desperation must have got through to Arthur. Pulling back, hands hard on Merlin's shoulders, holding him still even as Merlin tried to kiss him again, Arthur said, "Never."

Breath catching in his throat, Merlin searched Arthur's face. The moment between them seemed to stretch into forever, echoes of the past and the future and their lives together resonating in eternity. It felt like vows exchanged, and Merlin wanted to hold onto it and savour what it could mean, for now and always.

But Arthur was never comfortable with emotion. So instead of talking about it, that vow, Arthur just raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Ready for another round?"

Merlin recognized it for what it was, acknowledgement and acceptance and love. Arthur could be so ridiculous at times but he loved him all the more for it.

"You are insatiable." Merlin rolled his eyes, making sure Arthur saw his reaction, and then smiled, a rather lascivious, come-hither look that was not lost on Arthur.

Arthur met him smile for smile. Pulling Merlin closer, his eyes intense, Arthur said, "No, just making up for lost time. Now shut up and kiss me, idiot."

Wanting to laugh, to dive into Arthur and never come out again, instead, he said, "Yes, my king."

Amongst the kisses and touches and mounting pleasure, Merlin tried not to think about how fleeting it might all be. Kilgharrah's words of Arthur's unknown future still echoed in his head. But the old dragon did not know Arthur's fate, and Merlin knew the dangers of trying to find out. Destiny would always have a hand in their lives, and no matter the struggle, in the end, it would win.

All Merlin could do was take each day and make it last an eternity.

With that, he pulled Arthur down and sucked him dry and listened to his ragged shouts of ecstasy and found it worth whatever pain might come later. Because he had Arthur here, now, languid and sweaty and beautiful, vulnerable, soft-hearted underneath all those layers. Because there was love here and it was as real and full and true. And that's all that mattered, really.

Now and always.

* * *

 **"** _Ic þé þurhhæle þínu lícsár" =_ I thee heal thy mortal wound.


End file.
